A Kiss of Lies

by Bronwen Evans

  Maitland, with his usual cool, clear logic, said, “I’ll put a discreet watch on the Coldhurst residence. We need to know if any of Dennett’s men are sniffing around. But I agree with Hadley—get Serena out of town at once. Is there somewhere you could take her where they’d not think to look?”

  Christian sank into his chair, head in hands. What a mess. Fullerton was right. The law was not on his side. But in spite of that, right was.

  Arend interrupted his morose thoughts. “I have a cottage near York. No one knows of it. My mother and I stayed there when we first arrived from France. I bought it years later for sentimental reasons. I never go there. You’re welcome to use it.”

  How appropriate—they’d come full circle from York, Canada, to York, England. “Thank you. But how can I help her from York? I’m of more use here.” He humbled himself. “Could you take her there?” he asked Arend.

  Arend Aubury was more English than French, even though he was French by birth. His family had fled the revolution when he was a child. He had a debonair presence the ladies could not resist. His dark coloring labeled him as foreign. His olive skin was highlighted by his brown hair, and his almost black eyes gave him a Mediterranean look. His heritage was there for all to see, and Christian trusted him like a brother.

  Maitland spoke up before Arend could answer. “If you stay, on what grounds will you fight her case? You know the law. For women, adultery is no grounds for a divorce even if the husband does agree. As far as mistreatment is concerned, it’s his word against hers regarding his cruelty. Unless Serena can prove that her life was at risk, it will be almost impossible for her to get a divorce, particularly if Dennett does not agree.”

  For one moment, Christian wanted to hit his heartless friend. He bristled like the black, short-cropped hair on Maitland’s head. Short and to the point was Maitland, there was no doubt of that. He had no idea of polite discourse, nor did he care. But Christian didn’t need the helplessness of his situation spelled out so plainly. “She can prove it with scars.”

  Maitland’s cool demeanor seemed to desert him momentarily. “Scars? Bloody bastard.”

  “Better idea: we’ll make her a widow.” Arend’s slight French accent sounded so evil.

  Christian was sorely tempted by his suggestion but shook his head. “If I could do it in an honorable fashion, I would, but as for cold-blooded murder? That would not be principled. I’m damned if I’ll stoop to his level.” He gulped down his brandy. He jumped to his feet. “That’s it. A duel. I’ll challenge him to a duel.”

  Maitland rose and pushed Christian back into his seat before going to refill his glass. “I concur. Your honorable solution is logical, since she can show he mistreated her. The world will be a better place without Dennett.”

  “We need to keep her safe and hidden from Dennett until then.” A possessive fire inflamed his skin. Serena was his. She belonged to him, and he was not about to give her up to anyone, especially not to a husband who’d likely sail away to ensure she disappeared for good. He didn’t even put it past Dennett to kill her.

  “Even killing Dennett honorably in a duel, Prinny will be hard-pressed to pardon you. After all, Serena is Dennett’s wife, and his brother is a marquis. However, if the Prince could be persuaded that it is a question of a lady’s safety … Lady Serena always was one of his favorites. Besides,” he drawled, “Prinny is always in need of money, and you, Christian, have a lot of it. Hadley has secured a signed pardon for Sebastian, so let us pray that when Prinny sees Serena’s scars and hears of her treatment, a large amount of coin will soften his stance.” He shook his head. “And let us pray the Marquis is not overly fond of his brother!”

  So Christian had his solution. “Damn! I should have challenged him tonight. Even if I have to flee England, I can take Serena with me, and I’ll at least save her from that monster.”

  Arend burst his euphoria. “Aren’t we forgetting something? Your right shoulder does not function well. Is it your shooting arm? Has the burn damage affected your ability to hold steady and aim? What if he kills you? Then who will help Serena?”

  “One of you will. Sebastian has already promised to help her.” The thought of any man with Serena cut him up inside, but if he died in this duel, he’d want to see her protected. He’d want to see her happy.

  Arend smiled. “A better solution would be to ensure he doesn’t kill you. I’d like to see you practice, and perhaps we could treat the tightness in your shoulder.”

  Christian rotated his arm through the air. “Serena has been rubbing liniment into the muscles, and it does help.”

  Maitland stood. “Good. Then we have a plan. A risky plan, I admit, but the odds are in your favor. Dennett has never fought a duel. He prefers to run and hide.”

  Christian rose too. “Then what will make him fight this one? I don’t want Dennett taking drastic action in an attempt to avoid a duel—it might put Serena in further danger.”

  Maitland patted him on the back. “We will have to challenge him in an open forum, in a place where he will have no option but to accept. Then I’ll start a wager on the outcome at White’s. If it’s public knowledge, it would look very suspicious if anything happened to Serena.”

  Arend rose and collected his gloves off the table by the door. “I agree with Christian. Dennett will try to run. He only brutalizes those weaker than himself. We will have to ensure we keep Serena safe and away from him until after the duel. With a dishonorable man like Dennett, there is no disputing she’s in danger.”

  As the two men took their leave, Maitland promised, “All of us will stand with you. Keep Serena hidden at the Coldhurst residence until the duel. If the duel goes according to plan, then make for Arend’s cottage near York. You can stay there until the scandal dies down.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maitland arrived at the Markham townhouse just after breakfast. Hadley had ascertained that Peter Dennett was attending the yearling auction at Tattersalls this afternoon. He wanted stock to take back to America.

  This is where Christian would issue the challenge. Half of the male peerage would be in attendance, all eager witnesses. The yearling sale was the premier event at Tattersalls.

  It was a somber ride to Hyde Park Corner. Christian wanted the business over and done with. Dennett would die on the dueling field, or die if he came for Serena. His death was the only certain outcome. Christian was still the best shot in England. His damaged shoulder had caused no trouble when aiming a gun in practice.

  They had to be ready. Serena had to be protected.

  Maitland looked around as they rode through Hyde Park’s main gates. “Arend’s men are watching the Coldhurst house. I don’t want you to worry about her. You need to concentrate on the duel. I’m taking you for pistol practice after this, and then we’ll see to loosening your shoulder.”

  “I have to see Serena first.”

  Maitland sighed and turned to face him in the saddle. “I knew you’d say that. It is best left until later. There’s no point in upsetting her before the deed is done.”

  How did Christian explain to a man who let so little emotion enter his life that he had to see her? If the duel did not go his way, he wanted to have said all the things he felt for her in his heart and to have let her know that he’d willingly die a thousand deaths to see her safe.

  “There are instructions I must give her should I not be successful.”

  “Tsk! You won’t fail her.”

  “You don’t know that.” He gazed silently at Maitland, but his friend’s stare remained steady. Maitland truly believed he’d win. “If I don’t, you have to promise me you’ll save her.”

  “I’ll do better than that—I’ll kill Dennett myself. I don’t care how. I’ll make it look like an accident. An evil like his must be extinguished. Serena can hate me all she likes, it matters not to me. I’m not as honorable as you, Christian. I see no downside to his death.”

  Relief flooded through him. “Thank goodness you’re a frie
nd. I’d hate to become your enemy. I hate Dennett too, but for me, death must be honorable.”

  Maitland gave a rare smile. “That’s why you’re the hero.”

  It didn’t take long to find Dennett. He was surrounded by young ruffians, most already worse for drink. Sean Burcher, the man who’d tried to rape Serena, was by his side, Dennett’s ever-attentive shadow. Rage flared bright within Christian. He drew in deep breaths, praying his temper would hold. He had to look the aggrieved party, but it was difficult to do when issuing a challenge over another man’s wife.

  Maitland and Christian dismounted and handed the reins to a groom. “We won’t be long. Walk them around and give them only a little water. We shall be leaving soon.”

  As they approached Dennett’s band of followers, the man spied them, and instead of becoming defensive he welcomed them with a beaming smile.

  “Lord Markham, the war hero and collector of runaway wives. I assume this is not a social call.”

  Christian stepped forward and clenched his fists at his side, lest he knock the bastard’s teeth down his throat.

  “Peter Dennett, I hereby challenge you to a duel, at dawn tomorrow at Kenwood, Hampstead.” Christian removed one of his riding gloves and formally slapped it across Dennett’s face.

  Dennett laughed. “How dramatic you are! Surely it is I who should be challenging you. Serena is, after all, my wife.” He glanced briefly at the faces surrounding them. He took note of the small gathering that was quickly growing as the tale of the challenge went racing around the crowd.

  A tad quieter now, Dennett asked, “And what if I do not accept this challenge?”

  Christian didn’t give him the opportunity to decline. In a raised voice he stated, “Choose your second. At six tomorrow morning I shall expect you at Kenwood. If not, I will assume you are the coward Lady Serena Castleton says you are, and you will never see her again.”

  “Haven’t we jumped a step? Where’s the ‘choose thy weapon’?”

  A hint of unease settled low in his stomach. He grew uneasy recalling the smirk of triumph on Dennett’s face as he’d uttered the challenge. It was as if Dennett had been expecting it, as if he was eager for it.

  “For your information,” Dennett went on, “Lord Carthors will be my second. Won’t you, Arthur?”

  “Indeed,” the drunken buffoon at Dennett’s side muttered.

  “And, the weapon I choose is the rapier.”

  A gasp ricocheted around the gathered crowd. Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown, and Christian understood Dennett’s glee at the challenge. The damage to his right shoulder from the burns made his flexibility almost nonexistent. Christian would not be at his fighting best.

  Someone in the crowd called out, “I say, old chap, that is not very sporting of you. Lord Markham carries an injury.”

  For once Christian gave thanks for the Markham temper. He could use it. He would need his anger to fight through the pain. Having to duel with a rapier leveled the skills of the two men. So much for thinking killing Dennett would be easy.

  The angry hum was growing audibly in the crowd, as Dennett had not withdrawn his choice of weapon. Christian held his hand up for silence.

  “Rapier it is, then.” Under his breath he added, “I’ll enjoy skewering you with it. I knew you were no gentleman when I saw the whip marks you left on Serena’s skin.”

  “If you’ve seen those marks, then it would appear my wife needs another lesson in discipline. When you’re dead, I’ll make her pay. I’ll have her down on her knees, screaming my na—”

  Maitland had to intervene as Christian lunged for Dennett’s throat. But Christian shrugged his friend off and reined in his anger.

  “You’ll keep until tomorrow. If anyone’s going to be down on their knees begging, it will be you. You’ll be begging for your life and I’ll show you the same mercy you showed Serena—none.”

  Dennett’s laugh followed him as he made his way back to his mount.

  Maitland uttered dryly, “Apart from the fact you might now lose, that went rather well. We have plenty of witnesses, and not a one of them will care if you kill Dennett, not after his cowardly display of dishonor. Rapier indeed!”

  With ice-cold certainty Christian said under his breath, “I’ll defeat him. I have too much to lose.”

  “When we get home, we need to get that shoulder seen to.”

  Maitland and Hadley spent the rest of the afternoon working on his shoulder and testing its strength.

  Hadley stood back and dropped his sword. “Better. The liniment has helped, and if you stretch it out beforehand, the arm should actually loosen the more you fight. We can’t do any more today. I suggest I arrive an hour before the duel and we work further on the knots.”

  “Serena’s treatment throughout the voyage back to England has definitely helped. It’s in much better shape than it’s ever been.” He toweled his chest and drew his shirt back on. “Speaking of Serena, has anyone told her about Dennett?”

  Both men looked at each other and the floor. Hadley cleared his throat and spoke up. “I thought it best to wait until the duel was over.”

  “In case I died?” He eyed them both. “I’m going to see her, so don’t try to stop me.”

  “As if we could,” Maitland stated dryly to his departing back.

  Christian worked hard to make certain he wasn’t followed when he left the house. He wanted—no, needed—to see Serena to tell her the news, and make sure she was safe.

  He didn’t know how she’d react to the fact her husband was still alive. With relief that she wasn’t a murderess, most likely, followed by the awful realization that she was still his wife and therefore his property.

  Taking Serena to his bed had made her an adulteress.

  Yet he couldn’t seem to care. She belonged to him, and no one was going to tell him otherwise, especially not a fiend like Peter Dennett. Dennett didn’t deserve her.

  He sent his carriage out as a decoy and then shimmied over the neighboring walls and through a series of back gardens to reach Sebastian’s house, a block to the north.

  He entered the house through the servants’ entrance and noted Arend’s men guarding the house. He still couldn’t get the tension in his stomach to unfurl. Until Dennett felt his blade, Serena was not safe.

  The butler went to find her. Christian stood looking out the window at the garden, contemplating the unpleasant task before him. Fear snaked down his spine. He wouldn’t lose, for if he did, he would have failed her.

  Serena’s scent filled the room as soon as she entered, and his body started to hum in recognition. He turned to face her, and as she drew near, he pulled her into his arms.

  She rested her head on his chest. “Is it true? Peter’s alive? Marisa told me.” She trembled like a slender willow tree on a windy day. When Christian didn’t respond, she shuddered and added, “Thank God. At least I’m no longer a murderess, merely an adulteress.”

  “No. You did not know he was alive.”

  “But he’s still my husband.”

  “Yes, he made that perfectly clear.”

  “He’s met with you? What did he want?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her question. “You cannot guess?”

  Her face paled further. “He knows about us? God, he’ll kill me. I’m his property.”

  “He’d have to take you over my dead body.”

  Her breath exhaled sharply at the shock of his words.

  She stepped back out of his arms and straightened her shoulders, as if her posture could ward off what was to come. “How long do I have before he comes for me?”

  “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

  Serena let his vehement statement lift her spirits, even though she knew he lied. Peter Dennett owned her just as he owned his slaves back on the plantation. No law in England could stop him from reclaiming her. No one would let the brother of a marquis be charged with cruelty. Dennett would find a way to silence her before he’d let tha
t happen.

  In the eyes of the ton, Peter was the hardworking younger son of a good family, a pillar of English society. He was handsome and charming. He had the ton fooled. Nobody saw his dark side. And those that did, hid like ghosts in the night, scared of the power his family wielded.

  She crossed to the desk, conscious the large piece of furniture was not the only barrier that now lay between them. She could never be Christian’s wife. Not now.

  Softly she said, “You can’t save me, Christian. I won’t let you.”

  He followed her and pulled her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. “I can and I will.”

  “It will be less painful if you let me go.” She knew he’d never agree to that. He was far too honorable. She’d have to leave—run. Forever running.

  His eyelids lowered, shielding his gaze. “I love you. You put yourself in danger to clear my name and I cannot forget it.” He placed his hand over her stomach. “Besides, you might be carrying our child. I want you by my side, to be my family. I won’t let Dennett get his hands on you or our baby.” He kissed her cheek. “We belong together. Two wounded souls who found love. I won’t walk away from that. Not when I know you’re better off with me.”

  “I’ll have to leave here. I can’t bring a man like Peter Dennett into the Coldhurst sisters’ lives. Think of what could happen to Marisa and Helen. It’s not safe. To get to me, he’d destroy anyone who stood in his way.”

  Christian hugged her tighter. “Dennett doesn’t know you’re here. We have time to plan how to defeat him. I suspect he thinks I’ve hidden you away at Henslowe. Hadley’s discovered Dennett has dispatched his men to Dorset. I’ve alerted the staff.”

  She turned in his arms and looked at him. “What do I do? Tell me. It’s hopeless. I’m trapped. He’s never going to leave me alone. I wish I had killed him.” Her sob escaped before she could stop it, and she hated herself more when she saw the pain in Christian’s eyes.

  Picking her up, Christian walked to the settee and sat, pulling her onto his lap. He stroked her face with his finger, wiping the tears off her cheeks while she cried. She couldn’t stop. All the tension of the past few months seemed to flow out with her tears. The relief of not being a murderess was like a rebirth, but now reborn, she was still not free.